Nape
by Sherlockian87
Summary: If someone were to request of Molly Hooper to make a list of all the things she loved about Sherlock Holmes (a detailed list), it would probably take her several days to write it. And what would be first and foremost on that list? Oh, that is quite an easy thing for her to decide: his nape.


Nape

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><p>If someone were to request of Molly Hooper to make a list of all the things she loved about Sherlock Holmes (a detailed list), it would probably take her several days to write it. And what would be first and foremost on that list? Oh, that is quite an easy thing for her to decide: his nape.<p>

It hadn't been the initial thing about him that she had noticed when they were introduced to one another. No, not at all. But it had caught her eye shortly after. Good God, the mere sight of it turned her on! And if she were to be asked as to why she loved his nape, she wouldn't be able to give a clear answer. She honestly didn't know herself.

For years she caught herself staring at it; at the base of his neck where the hairline met skin. It was extremely convenient to do so when he was sitting at a microscope in her lab. She would have loved nothing more than to move her fingertips over it, feeling the smooth silkiness of his hair and skin. But that was all purely fantasy. Molly often found herself staring off into the distance imagining her lips placing kisses there. She was always pulled back to reality by John asking her if she was all right. Her stammer would return and she would always blush and scurry from the room, never knowing about the satisfied smirk on Sherlock's face.

Several more years would pass before her fantasy became reality. It wasn't until Fauxriarty reared his ugly head in the form of Sebastian Moran that Sherlock was forced to admit to himself, and to Molly, ( and later on to John) that he did and he was capable of feelings, sentiment, emotion. The fact that it took Molly's life to be in danger for him to realize this was something that perhaps should have bothered her. But when his arms were holding her close to him, and his lips were on hers kissing her deeply, all thoughts of any sort of anger towards him fled from her mind. She knew how Sherlock worked, and if this was possibly just his way of getting her to do something for him, she was going to take full advantage (even if it meant later downing an entire bottle of red wine and shedding some tears). The force and suddenness of his kiss had quite thrown her off her axis, but she quickly righted herself and began to kiss him back. It was then that it was time for her fantasy to be fulfilled.

She slowly moved her hands upwards; over his chest to his jaw line then at last she curved her hands backwards and hit her desired target. Her fingertips moved through his hair, it was just as silky as she imagined. He let out a low growl into her mouth, their lips still having not parted, as her fingernails scraped slightly against his skin. He was just as warm and smooth as she expected. But truly, the real thing was so much better than the fantasy.

It wasn't until later, quite a bit later, that Molly came to realize that this wasn't Sherlock using her, that it was in fact him needing and wanting her. He was asleep now, his back to her, the paleness of his bare skin glowing slightly from the light of the streetlamps outside the window. She thought she had never seen anything more beautiful.

Moving slowly and quietly she slid her body up against him, reveling in his warmth of his skin against hers. It was time for her to fulfill another fantasy. With a faint smile on her lips she dipped her head down and began to place feather-light kisses upon the nape of his neck; outlining his hairline, brushing the tip of her nose along the shell of his ear. She knew he was awake; the pattern of his breathing had changed. She moved back downwards, pressing her lips now a bit more forcefully upon his skin.

"Molly." His voice cracked over the L's.

She smiled and he turned on to his back so that he was facing her. A satisfied smirk was upon his lips.

"I always knew you had a bit of a kink for my neck."

She felt a blush rise to her cheeks.

"You never once wondered why I set my microscope so low?"

Her eyes widened slightly before she reached out and gave his arm a swat, "Bastard!"

He let out a chuckle before grabbing her and pulling her down to him so that they were skin to skin once more, "Your thoughts were always extremely loud."

She hid her face in his chest, feeling slightly mortified.

"I rather enjoyed them." He murmured huskily into her ear, "The real thing is a bit better though, isn't it?"

He could feel her nod her head.

"Want to know what my kink is for you?"

She picked up her head and looked at him, "Yes."

"Your breasts and your lips."

She opened her mouth to say something but he stopped her with a raised hand.

"They are perfectly proportionate for you, and are quite pleasing to me."

She kissed him, humming contentedly against his lips. He rolled her onto her back, allowing her to slip her hands up to his nape.

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